


Would You Like to Play (with the thought of a friend)

by Mildly_Maddy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, OTRA tour, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Maddy/pseuds/Mildly_Maddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam knows he's being greedy. Greedy, and selfish, two flaws he's always trying to avoid: they feel even more wrong when he already has so much.</p>
<p>But he's admired his boys for so long, and so when Harry and Louis both come onto him, a couple weeks apart, as if both moved by the same drive (the hiatus fast approaching, probably. Surely they can’t have just been waiting for Liam to be single), Liam can’t bring himself to say no.</p>
<p>He can’t make himself say no to Harry, with his long curls so easy to grip as he kneels down in the deserted green room and deftly opens the buttons on Liam's suddenly horribly tight jeans, talking about farewell gifts and last opportunities. And he can’t make himself say no to Louis, who corners him back at the hotel two weeks later, poking and prodding and biting at him until suddenly, Liam isn’t quite sure how, they're both naked and hard, a mess of sweaty limbs on Liam’s couch as they each try to bring the other off first.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Or, Louis and Harry both want a piece of Liam, and they don't mind sharing. Liam just wants everything he can get, pretty please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would You Like to Play (with the thought of a friend)

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a simple prompt fill (Lilo or Lirry, "How about we put on some pants and figure this out?") and it... got a little out of hand. For [Liampaynesolorecord](http://liampaynesolorecord.tumblr.com/), it's not exactly what you'd been expecting but I hope it's everything you've been hoping for. <3
> 
> A thousand million thanks to [countthestars](http://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars) for the super quick beta and words of encouragement, you're a doll!!! <333

  
  


Liam knows he's being greedy. Greedy, and selfish, two flaws he's always trying to avoid: they feel even more wrong when he already has so much.

But he's admired his boys for so long, and so when Harry and Louis both come onto him, a couple weeks apart, as if both moved by the same drive (the hiatus fast approaching, probably. Surely they can’t have just been waiting for Liam to be single), Liam can’t bring himself to say no.

He can’t make himself say no to Harry, with his long curls so easy to grip as he kneels down in the deserted green room and deftly opens the buttons on Liam's suddenly horribly tight jeans, talking about farewell gifts and last opportunities. And he can’t make himself say no to Louis, who corners him back at the hotel two weeks later, poking and prodding and biting at him until suddenly, Liam isn’t quite sure how, they're both naked and hard, a mess of sweaty limbs on Liam’s couch as they each try to bring the other off first.

He feels terrible about it the next day, even though Harry’s made it clear this is just a bit of fun (which in itself is unfair, Liam thinks, because Harry knows perfectly well Liam is crap at not committing), but apparently not terrible enough that he'd turn down Harry's advances that very night, making out with him in the bathroom of one of their many end-of-tour parties until his lips are numb.

And somehow it keeps on happening, through the last weeks of tour and promo, mind numbing days of answering the same questions over and over again till one day at lunch his own sister asks him what he’s got planned for the hiatus and he finds himself spouting out the PR answer, not understanding what’s wrong until Ruth lovingly slaps him over the back of the head, demanding a proper human reply.

Like flashes in the fog, Louis and Harry seek him out in turn, tugging on Liam’s arm, sprinkling kisses down his chest, dragging him to dark corners and deserted rooms and the back of cars, somehow never overlapping, never meeting, so that Liam keeps getting away with it, again and again. Every morning he sternly tells himself that it needs to end, that he’s going to break it off with both of them, just leave it at that. Then Louis breathes “Can’t wait to get my lips ‘round your cock,” hot in his ear in the middle of rehearsals, or Harry palms his dick a little too long for it to be just their usual brand of playful, and Liam forgets all his resolutions, just wants to take as much as they’ll give him.

And somehow that’s how he ends up in a hotel bed in Sheffield on the morning of their very last concert. For days he’s been torn between excitement and dread, sadness and relief, which means that when Louis knocked on his bedroom door at 2 in the morning, Liam didn’t even think about saying no, losing himself in something that is already starting to become familiar, the taste and feel of Louis’s body against his thrilling and reassuring all at once.

He wakes up alone, but the noises coming from the bathroom tell him Louis’s still around; he rolls on his back and spreads his limbs, enjoying the vastness of his bed even more after it’s been taken up by another body for half the night. Louis’s singing in the shower, some song Liam doesn’t recognize, maybe something Louis’s making up - it would explain his frequent faltering.

The sounds stop a split second before Liam’s bedroom door opens, and Liam turns his head to the side to see Harry sneaking in in nothing but his pants, which he discards before the door has even had time to close shut. Liam’s eyes go wide, but he can’t seem to make himself speak, his lips working soundlessly as Harry winks at him and tiptoes over to the bed, raising the sheets at the end of the mattress and crawling under them, his hands warm and steady on Liam’s naked thighs, already spread apart as if in invitation.

Liam is half-hard, in virtue of it being early morning and idle thoughts about what he and Louis got up to mere hours before, and despite the panic making his blood turn cold, Harry's hot breath against his sensitive skin is more than enough to keep his dick interested.

“Harry,” he finally chokes out, staring down at the lump in his bedsheets, hand hovering over it. Harry’s lips close around Liam’s cock, his tongue cold as if Harry’s just drunk some ice water, which he probably has, and Liam finds himself screwing his eyes shut, making a frantic wish for things to somehow work out okay, for Harry to change his mind and go... but the bathroom door is already swinging open.

“Fancy another shag before we’ve got to-” Louis’s voice cuts off abruptly, and Liam knows he’s done for.

He moans, a sound between pleasure and terror, and turns his head towards the bathroom to find Louis standing stock still in the doorframe, still naked and wet from the shower, water droplets falling from his hair to his chest, gliding down his abs to the patch of hair around his cock in a way that would usually have Liam tackling Louis to the ground so he could chase the droplets with his tongue.

Harry freezes with his lips wrapped around Liam’s cock for a second that stretches out like a century before he lets him slip out of his mouth, sitting up straight. With the bedsheet still hiding him from view, he looks like a kid pretending to be a ghost, and Liam would laugh if he didn’t want to die. When the sheet finally slips away, Harry’s face mirrors the look of shock and bewilderment on Louis’s. “Louis?” he asks, clearing his throat when the word is nothing more than a croak. “Liam?” His head whips back to look down at Liam, still prone on the bed, legs spread out, cock rapidly deflating in shame and dread.

“Liam?” Louis parrots. “Liam, what the fuck is this?” he adds, voice sharp, when Liam fails to answer, cowardly pressing the balls of his hands over his eyes, wishing himself to wake up or disappear. Five years living in each other’s pockets without much more than an occasional spat, and he had to screw everything up right before the finish line.

“I’m so sorry,” he moans, keeping his hands firmly on his eyes. “I didn’t… I knew I should stop, but… Oh god, I’m a monster.”

There’s silence for a while after that. Maybe Louis and Harry are going to go away, leave him there in his bed of shame, and just never speak to him again. Hopefully they will not get in a fight; Liam couldn’t bear the thought of driving the rift between them even deeper.

The mattress shifts under a new weight, and Liam finally lowers his hands in time to see Louis gingerly sitting down next to him, one leg curled up under him and the other still dangling over the side of the bed. He feels Harry shifting at the bottom of the bed, but keeps his eyes on Louis’s naked knee; it feels safer.

“Alright,” Louis says, and he doesn’t sound angry, which is strange. “Stop your pity-party for a second and just look at us?”

It takes every ounce of willpower and courage Liam has to sit up and face them. They’re all naked, and it should be ridiculous, but in a weird way it puts them all on an equal footing. Harry’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, hands on his thighs, and he doesn’t look angry, head cocked to the side as he stares at Liam as if at a strange animal. One glance at Louis confirms Louis isn’t angry either, although Liam can’t decipher the look on his face.

Maybe they haven’t yet understood how horribly Liam has played them both.

“This thing with Harry,” Louis says, as if to prove Liam wrong, “how long has it been going on?”

Liam looks at Harry, but he doesn’t seem about to answer, so he mumbles, “A month or so.”

“Oh,” Louis says, clearly surprised, and Liam looks down, back to staring at Louis’s knee. There’s a red mark on it from where Liam bit him a couple hours ago.

“How long for you?” Harry asks, and since the question is clearly directed at Louis, Liam doesn’t endeavour to answer it.

“Couple of weeks.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry says. Liam nearly jumps out of his skin when Harry’s hand gently comes to rest on his ankle, thumb stroking the bone there. None of this makes sense. Why aren’t they yelling at him?! Somehow the yelling would be easier to handle.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, to Louis’s knee, which looks unaffected. “I’ve been… Fuck, I’ve been a selfish prick. There’s absolutely no excuse I can give.”

He’d never cheated on anyone until today, he thinks mournfully. All these temptations, all these gorgeous women throwing themselves at him, and he was never tempted to cheat, not even once. It was always easy to think about Danielle, and later Sophia, and know that no one-night-stand would be worth destroying what he had with them.

But Louis and Harry… He wasn’t able to choose. It feels even more wrong to think he’s done this to two of the people he loves the most.

“Told you to stop the pity-party.” Louis’s voice is without bite, and then his hand is on Liam’s elbow, thumb stroking the soft skin on the inside in counterpoint to the movement of Harry’s thumb on his ankle; it feels like a small current of electricity is going from one to the other and Liam tries his best not to react to it.

“Never said we were exclusive,” Harry says, shrugging.

“Never said so either,” Louis confirms, and Liam looks from one to the other, not trying to hide his surprise.

“Are you hooking up with anybody else though?” Harry asks, his thumb slowing.

“What? No! No, of course not!”

Harry’s thumb starts moving again, but Liam is more unsettled than ever, desperate for a fight, for something that makes sense. Harry and Louis quietly excusing him and touching him so gently is just _wrong_.

“Look I won’t… You can be angry y’know,” he says, gently pulling his foot and arm away from them. “Just because it’s our last concert tonight, you don’t have to keep it reigned in.” As he says it he understands that this is exactly what must be going on; Harry and Louis just don’t want to jeopardize their very last concert by getting into a fight. But this is wrong; they should have it all out now so they can hopefully somehow move past it before tonight. “Look, can we just… can we just put some pants on and talk about this?” he says, because if they’re not naked maybe things will go back to normal.

He expects Harry and Louis to nod and get to their feet, but they don’t move, staring at each other for a while as if in a silent conversation, and Liam didn’t think they still knew how to do that, not with how distant they’ve become. Then Louis’s hand is back on Liam’s body, on his hip this time, and Harry scoots forward until he can place his own hand on Liam’s thigh, leaning his weight on it, his eyes spelling trouble.

“What-” Liam chokes out, even more at a loss, but his words get cut off by the feel of Louis’s teeth around his earlobe, the tip of his tongue coming to tickle it. “Louis!” he squeals, sure that Harry’s going to storm off, and he can’t believe Louis would just… claim him like this, and fuck, alright, this is hot, it shouldn’t be hot, he can’t get aroused right now.

But Harry doesn’t storm off, and even though he is staring at Louis while Louis teasingly sucks on Liam’s earlobe, the heat in his eyes is clearly not anger. Harry’s hand slides up Liam’s thigh until his fingertips are touching Liam’s hipbone, thumb pressing down against the almost hairless skin of Liam’s inner thigh, and fuck, he can see himself chubbing up again, can’t help himself. Harry leans forward, and his breath is hot against Liam’s other ear as he says, “Putting pants on sounds rather counterproductive, right Lou?”

“Definitely.” Louis finally lets go of Liam’s ear, only to latch on his neck instead, the sharp pain indicative of a bruise in the making.

Liam can’t breathe, his cock quicker on the uptake than his brain and getting to full hardness in a split second as Harry licks a strip from his jaw to his temple then presses his lips there, the tip of his thumb brushing back and forth against Liam’s balls in a maddening tease.

“You’re not… What are you…” Liam stammers, but Harry’s lips move to the corner of his mouth, and Harry’s hand cups his cheek, turning Liam’s head towards him, and Liam stops trying to understand any of it as Harry softly kisses him, just a brush of his lips, his impossibly green eyes staring deep into Liam’s own as he leans ever so slightly back.

“I think what we’re trying to say,” Harry says, voice low, “is that we don’t mind sharing.”

Louis hums his assent against Liam’s neck, the vibrations going straight down to his cock, before Harry kisses him again, pressing his lips more firmly against Liam’s this time.

This is mad, it’s all mad, and maybe Liam is just asleep, alone in his bed with dark fantasies about having his cake and eating it too, as if he doesn’t already have enough blessings in his life, as if he deserves such a gift on top of it all.

But dream or not, he’s not about to deny himself this, not when it’s being offered so willingly, Harry’s fingers gently wrapping themselves around Liam’s cock at the same time Louis’s hand sneaks up to tease Liam’s nipples. The twin approving hums Louis and Harry let out as Liam moans only make him moan again, and oh god, the mere idea of the two of them praising him is enough to make Liam’s body break into a sweat, his climax suddenly impossibly close.

Harry must sense it somehow, because his hand leaves Liam’s cock, and Liam can’t help the needy “No!” that spills out of his lips. The smirk tugging at the corner of Harry’s mouth is nothing short of obscene, not that Liam has got much time to look at it, not with Louis’s hand suddenly grabbing his chin and turning Liam’s head towards him. Louis kisses him deep and dirty straight away, his hand sliding into Liam’s hair and grabbing hard.

There are hands on his hips, lips on his shoulder, and he finally reaches out to touch in his turn, sliding a hand around to Louis’s lower back and another into Harry’s curls; the knowledge that they’re all connected makes his head spin, until he realizes the circle isn’t actually closed.

“Wait,” he gasps, wrenching his mouth away from Louis’s.

Harry and Louis both lean back, looking at him with parted lips, red from kissing, and it takes Liam a lot of willpower to not just dive back in and seal his mouth to theirs. But things are crazy enough that he feels confident in asking, “What’s in it for you?”, unable to find a better way to ask for what he wants.

Harry looks at him with his brows furrowed, but Louis just chuckles, hand sliding down to Liam’s abs. “I think that’s pretty obvious, lad…”

Liam grips Louis’s wrist; it’s hard enough keeping his ideas straight as it is. “No, I mean… if we do… if we do this, whatever this is… I mean I think you two should kiss,” he finally spits out, frustrated with himself for not wording it better.

“Oh.” Harry’s voice is soft, and Liam unconsciously holds his breath, making a silent prayer for this one request not to fuck everything up. But it feels wrong, that they both should be focusing on Liam and never on each other. There’s a missing link in the chain and Liam wants to at least try to correct it, because, if he’s honest with himself, the idea of Harry and Louis together, despite or maybe because of the stigma that goes with it, makes him breathless with desire.

Harry turns to Louis, and they’re back with their silent conversation, all in minute movements of their eyebrows and twitches of their lips, until suddenly Louis shrugs and leans forward over Liam’s legs, one hand coming to cup the back of Harry’s neck as he brushes his lips against Harry’s, stopping short of an actual kiss.

It’s Harry who bridges the distance, pressing his lips to one corner of Louis’s mouth, then the other, until Louis kisses back, his fingers clenching on Harry’s neck. Liam’s got front row seats to it all, both their faces so close to his he would barely have to lean forward an inch to press his lips to theirs, but he doesn’t make a move, afraid the smallest movement may break the spell.

He watches as the kiss heats up and Louis relinquishes control to Harry, letting himself be pushed on his back as Harry awkwardly crawls over Liam’s legs, bending over Louis, biting on Louis’s lower lip roughly before slipping his tongue past his lips. They kiss messy and wet and Liam’s entire world is reduced to the glimpses of their tongues, the sounds of spit and heavy breathing.

And then, as fast as it started, it stops. Harry rests his forehead against Louis's, one arm braced on the mattress to carry himself up, both of them sharing breath for a few seconds before Harry licks his own lips and says, voice hoarse, “Weird?”

“Fucking weird,” Louis replies, and Liam doesn't have more than a couple seconds to wonder what they're talking about before they both move, fast and sneaky, Harry crawling over Louis's legs to come straddle Liam’s thighs, Louis rolling to his stomach and pressing a kiss to Liam's hip with a content humming sound.

There are two sets of hands on Liam’s shoulders, pushing and pulling until he’s lying down once more, going a little cross-eyed as Louis crawls close enough to kiss him. “Much better.”

Liam swallows, both terribly turned on and a little ashamed, because he thought the kiss was anything _but_ weird, and he’d very much like to watch them snog for a little while longer if they’d let him. The fact that everything’s going to be about him, as amazing as it is, doesn’t do much to assuage his guilt about being so greedy.

He feels Harry scooting further down on his legs, feels his big hands on his hips, and can’t help but murmur his apology; “I’m sorry, I thought… and I guess I wanted to see…”

“Don't worry about it,” Harry says, before wrapping his lips around Liam's cock once more, starting back where he left off before this all went off the rails.

“Yeah, Harry’ll give you all the love,” Louis says, and Harry almost chokes around his mouthful, his aborted laughter sending very interesting vibrations down Liam’s cock.

“Fuck you,” Harry gasps as he comes up for air, but he’s grinning, his cheeks flushed in that way that makes Liam want to do unspeakable things to him, to spread the blush further down his body.

Louis straddles Liam’s torso, curling in on himself as he bends down to kiss Liam, trying to take a little space as possible so Harry can keep doing those amazing things with his mouth on Liam’s cock. Louis’s knees are pressed against Liam’s sides as he cradles Liam’s head in his hands, tipping it back and kissing him breathless.

Harry puts as much heart in his blowjobs as he puts in performing on stage, and it takes no time at all for Liam to feel once more like he’s teetering on the edge of his climax, moaning into Louis’s mouth every time Harry’s tongue curls around the head of his cock, Harry’s fingers cupping Liam’s balls in a firm grip. He’s completely trapped by them both, unable to move anything but his arms, and it should probably be a little suffocating, but Liam feels safer than he can ever remember being.

Then, just as Liam grabs Louis’s upper arms, nails digging in as he gasps into Louis’s mouth, sure he’s going to come any second, Harry’s mouth leaves him, the sudden fresh air on his cock startling. He feels Harry’s weight shift on his legs, his hands leaving his body entirely, and then suddenly Louis isn’t kissing him anymore, arching up with a strangled, “Fuck, Styles!”

Liam doesn’t need to look to know exactly what Harry’s doing; he’s got a thing for it, straight in the morning. Louis's just taken a shower, but Harry never seems to mind the smell or the sweat anyway, which always makes Liam simultaneously want to combust with shame and arousal.

Louis slumps down against Liam, arse held high in the air, his breathing heavy next to Liam’s ear as he whimpers. “Fuck fuck _fuck_ what are you… _doing_ …”

Harry’s head comes into view, rising from behind Louis’s arse, lips glistening, eyes bright. “What does it feel like I’m doing?” he asks cheekily, pressing a kiss to the bottom of Louis’s spine before trailing his lips back down and, judging from Louis’s helpless squeak, getting back to business, his fingers flexing on Louis’s arse cheeks.

“I thought this was about… Li-EE-am!... oh _god_ …”

There’s an obscene wet noise as Harry’s mouth leaves Louis’s arse once again, and Liam stifles a needy whine, his cock desperate for touch, his brain plagued with visions of what things might look like behind the upwards slant of Louis’s spine.

“You were waving it in my face, what’s a boy supposed to do?” Harry says, but his hand goes back to Liam’s cock, swift and sure, and Liam doesn’t try to keep his moan down.

Louis seems to deflate on top of him, his hips coming back down, his cock hard where it’s trapped between both their stomachs. He mouths at Liam’s neck, one hand burying itself in Liam’s hair, and starts ever-so-slightly moving on top of him, probably trying to get some relief.

Harry wanks Liam off for a minute or two, dipping back down to give his cock head a few licks, before stopping once more. “D’you want me to continue?” he asks, and Liam knows that the question’s not aimed at him.

Louis’s lips still against Liam’s neck, his fingers tightening in his hair, but his voice is firm when he says, “Yes… fuck, yes, go on then, go on.”

Liam would complain, but he's pretty sure he might come just from watching Louis's reaction to what Harry's doing to him. Mostly he wishes he could see it, see Harry’s tongue lapping at Louis's hole and - dear god - delving into it. Louis is once again whining against Liam's neck, his legs trembling with the effort of keeping himself up, and when Liam reaches up to wrap his hand around Louis's cock, Louis very nearly collapses, only kept up by Harry's hands. “ _Fuck_!” he sobs, and he's coming undone, spilling over Liam's wrist and on his stomach, warm and wet.

Harry trails his lips back up to the bottom of Louis's spine, sprinkling kisses down the curve of Louis's back, to the spot where sweat has pooled. There's a flash of tongue, a weak moan from Louis, and Harry straightens up, sitting back on his haunches.

Slowly, Louis settles himself over Liam's body, stretching his shaky legs out on either side of Liam's own, his heartbeat frantic against Liam's chest. He's down for the count, but he looks blissful, cheeks flushed and lips a dark red from where he's bitten into them.

When Liam looks back up, Harry is wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with arousal, focused on Liam's face. It's enough to make one weak in the knees, if Liam wasn’t already lying down. He turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to Louis's temple, hand stroking Louis's back. Louis very nearly purrs.

“Babe, can you move?” Liam asks, trying to make it clear in his tone the request has nothing to do with Liam being fed up of having Louis's weight over him. But it's very clear in Harry's eyes that what he's got planned next requires Liam to be free of his movements.

Louis grumbles something that sounds a lot like “Horny bastards,” but rolls to the side anyway, staring down Liam's body with sleepy eyes.

The second Louis’s off, Harry shifts, first wedging one knee between Liam’s legs, then the other, sliding his palms down the inside of Liam’s thighs to make him spread them. Liam struggles to lean up, resting his weight on his bent elbows, and holds his breath as Harry bends down, way more feline than anyone that clumsy has any right to be, trailing the tip of his tongue up Liam’s torso and lapping up Louis’s come as if it was milk. There’s a soft moan to Liam’s right, echoed by his own, and when Louis’s knuckles come bumping against his hand, Liam links their fingers together, gripping on for dear life.

He opens his mouth willingly when Harry reaches it, accustomed already to the taste of Louis’s come but surprised to find it so different when mingled with the taste of Harry’s mouth, and the deep aftertaste left by Harry’s recent activity.

Harry’s grinding slowly on top of him, way too slowly for Liam’s taste, but grabbing hold of Harry’s arse cheek with his free hand and trying to up the rhythm proves useless, Harry purposefully slowing down instead of speeding up. “So impatient,” he whispers in Liam’s ear, and Liam can hear the smirk in the way his words lilt. He can also hear the arousal, and knows Harry’s just as desperate as he is, he’s just better at hiding it.

“C’mon,” Liam grunts, pressing messy kisses to the curve of Harry’s neck, still trying to get more friction on his aching cock.

Liam feels movement next to him, then lips on his shoulder as Louis scoots closer, one hand still gripping his. He turns his head to the side and kisses Louis’s hair, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, anything he can reach, trapped as he is beneath Harry. Louis tips his face up for a proper kiss he can get lost into, and when Harry’s teeth close around the taut skin of Liam’s neck, Liam shivers all over, connected as he is to both his boys.

“So I’ve been thinking…” Harry says against Liam’s neck after what feels like hours, and by now Liam is so hard he genuinely wants to cry. Louis keeps trailing his fingertips up and down his side in the most tantalizing caress, Harry’s still moving agonizingly slowly on top of him, and maybe, Liam thinks, this is their way of getting back at him, with sweet torture.

“What?” he gasps the next time Louis lets go of his tongue to catch a breath. He’s got a feeling Harry would have been content never to finish his sentence if Liam didn’t ask.

“Well…” Harry drawls, brushing his lips up Liam’s jaw. “Have you and Louis… y’know.”

Liam doesn’t know. He wouldn’t know his last name if you asked him right now. “Have we what?” he asks, trying to capture Louis’s lips with his again, but Louis won’t let him, leaning back with a glint in his eyes.

“I think he means have we fucked, Payno.”

“Oh. ... _oh_ ,” Liam says, blinking the sweat out of his eyes; it’s really ungodly hot in here, especially with Harry like a smoldering blanket over him. That’s when he realizes that Harry has stopped moving, and is now lying with both his arms folded on Liam’s chest, looking down at him with a little patient smile as if they weren’t both naked and hard.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow.

“We hadn’t gotten round to it.”

Liam wonders for a second if he’s spoken without realizing it, but the answer came from Louis, whose fingers finally still on Liam’s ribs, curling inwards a little. Liam tilts his head back towards him, and the look on Louis’s face is not one he’d been expecting, although he probably should have. Louis looks guarded, almost rebellious when he asks, “Have you?”, looking for all the world like there’s no question he wants to ask less.

Liam feels a surge of shame, as if having done more with Harry is somehow more reprehensible than cheating on them both. “I, um, I-”

“He fucked me,” Harry says, horribly matter-of-fact. It was Harry who asked, telling Liam he’d already done it before - not with another man, though, a detail which made Liam turn beetroot red at the time, wondering exactly which of Harry’s female conquests had indulged in it.

Louis’s eyes darken, Liam doesn’t know if it’s with desire or with anger. His fingers uncurl over Liam’s ribs, slowly crawling up to Liam’s nipple. Liam expects the twist, but he still flinches at how hard Louis does it, and he knows it’s punishment, even though Louis follows the move with a soft kiss to Liam’s lips.

“The reason I’m asking,” Harry continues, every word slow and pointed, moving one hand to softly stroke his thumb over Liam’s sore nipple, “is because I was thinking you could do that.”

“Wait, what?” Louis asks, and Liam is glad to know he’s not the only one who’s utterly lost. Mostly he doesn’t understand why they’ve stopped touching to talk, and his dick _definitely_ doesn’t understand it, still hard in a kind of hopeful way where it’s trapped between his and Harry’s stomach.

“I always kinda thought I’d like to see Liam fuck someone,” Harry says, and really, how does he just _say_ these things?! “And since you’re here…”

“You want Liam to fuck me in front of you?” Louis’s voice comes out strangled, not much more than a squeak, and Liam’s sure he’s not imagining the red tint on his cheeks.

“Well, if you don’t mind, of course.” Harry gives Liam’s nipple a tweak of his own before crawling off Liam’s body, and fuck, no, why?!

Liam must have said it out loud, because Harry chuckles and leans down to kiss him, open and wet. Soon there are fingertips brushing feather light against his cock, then fingers properly wrapping themselves around it (Louis’s, from the size of them), and Liam’s starting to think things aren’t so bad when both Harry and Louis let go of him, kneeling on either side of his body and staring at each other.

Liam struggles to sit up, wanting to be on equal ground, driven to put one hand on each of their thighs to keep the connection.

“Alright,” Louis finally says, and the way Harry’s face breaks into a beam would be charmingly innocent if his cock didn’t also jerk happily at the reply. “But I find your little fantasies a bit weird,” Louis adds, narrowing his eyes, although the way his own cock twitches belies his words.

Harry shrugs good-naturedly, then turns to Liam. “You’re up for it?”

Liam was starting to wonder if anyone would ask his opinion, not that he’d ever say no.

“He _looks_ like he’s up for it,” Louis says, reaching out a hand to brush his knuckles along Liam’s cock, and it’s a bit rich, him making fun of Liam for that, when they’re both just as hard as he is. It’s hard to glare when Louis keeps trailing his knuckles up and down Liam’s cock, though, and Liam gives up entirely when Harry leans down to flick his tongue over Liam’s nipple, fingers coming to play with the other one.

“I’m up for it,” Liam says, nodding even as he reaches out for Louis, pulling him close enough to kiss. “I’m definitely up for it, if you’re sure.”

“I’d been thinking about it before,” Louis says, and Liam isn’t foolish enough to buy his casual tone, not when Louis’s fingernails are digging into his arm; “Thought I might ask you for it tonight… y’know, like, to celebrate. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous as fuck though.” He tenses suddenly, and when Liam looks over his shoulder he sees Harry’s hand splayed out on Louis’s lower back.

“I was thinking,” Harry says, sounding much less sure of himself than he did a moment ago, which only makes Liam worry more, considering how that sentence ended the first time; “maybe I could help.” His hand slips lower on Louis’s back, fingertip of his middle finger resting right above the crack of Louis’s arse, and Liam feels Louis’s breath on his neck as he sighs.

“Help how?” Louis asks, voice tense.

Harry’s hand dips lower still, and even though Liam can’t properly see it, it’s obvious what his middle finger is pressing against when Louis gasps. “Help like that.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, so softly as to be almost inaudible. Then louder, “Alright, okay, yeah.”

Harry doesn’t grin this time, but Liam could swear his eyes get darker, and there’s a kind of predatory grace to him as he gets up from the bed, scanning the room. “Where’s the lube?” he asks, already striding towards the corner where Liam keeps his bags.

“Outside pocket of the green one.”

“For someone who finds it weird to snog me, he sure likes to stick stuff up my arse,” Louis quips against Liam's neck, and Liam can’t help but laugh, gently pushing on Louis’s shoulder so he can kiss him.

By the time Harry returns to the bed with a tube of lube in one hand and a few condoms in the other, Liam has forgotten anything that isn’t Louis’s mouth or his fingers scratching down Liam’s back like a cat.

That is, until Louis breaks the kiss abruptly. “Fuck, that’s cold!”

“Sorry,” Harry says, not sounding sorry at all. “Keep him occupied, will you?” The question is directed to Liam, who is happy to comply, nibbling his way down Louis’s neck, letting his fingers find their own way around Louis’s body, teasing his nipples, scratching down through the hairs under Louis’s belly button, sliding along his hipbone and all the way back up his spine.

Listening to Louis’s sharp breathing and soft gasps as Harry presses a finger into him is amazing in itself. Louis doesn’t say anything, but the way his fingers clench and unclench around Liam’s forearm speaks just as loudly. When Liam takes a peek over Louis’s shoulder, Harry is staring at Louis’s arse, intent on his task, his arm unmoving as he gives Louis a chance to get used to the intrusion.

Suddenly craving some kind of connection, Liam reaches out and brushes his fingertips against the soft skin on the inside of Harry’s elbow. He doesn’t mind Harry taking care of Louis, after all he was the one to first ask for it, but there’s something about how intently Harry is focused on Louis that makes Liam feel inexplicably left out, even as Louis mouths aimlessly at his shoulder, gasping wetly against his skin as Harry slowly adds another lube-coated finger. Only when both fingers are knuckle-deep into Louis does Harry look up into Liam’s eyes, his own eyes unfocused for a second before he blinks and smiles.

“This feels so fucking weird,” Louis suddenly whispers, rubbing his forehead against Liam’s shoulder and trying to shift closer. Liam rearranges his legs so one is spread between Louis’s knees, Harry’s forearm brushing against Liam’s shin as he fucks Louis with his fingers.

“You’re doing great,” Harry says, pressing his free hand against the nape of Louis’s neck, massaging it with his thumb. “Isn’t he, Li?”

“You’re doing great,” Liam parrots dazedly, shifting his attention back to Louis and kissing his temple. He lets his fingers slide down from Harry’s elbow to his wrist, pausing when he gets to the back of Harry’s hand. He wants to… He kinda wants to…

Harry must know exactly what he’s not daring to do, for his free hand leaves Louis’s neck to take hold of Liam’s hand, gently pulling it closer until Liam’s fingertips rest right against Louis’s arse, feeling Harry’s fingers moving in and out of him. Louis keens, one hand grabbing Liam’s hair hard enough to hurt, the other still clenched around Liam’s upper arm as if Louis’s afraid he might drift away.

Liam keeps his hand against Louis’s arse for a long time, hypnotized by the motion of Harry’s fingers under his fingertips, until Louis’s own hands unclench, Louis relaxing a little against him.

“So who’s been fucking you, Styles?” Louis asks, his sass returning. “Is it Taylor? I bet it’s Tay-” Louis’s sentence ends in a strangled squeak as Harry bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, leaving a mark which Liam strokes with one fingertip when Harry leans back, smirking. Still, Louis draws breath as if to say something more, but just then Harry starts moving his fingers faster, and Louis seems to give up, pressing his forehead back against Liam’s shoulder with a gasp.

“Ready for three?” Harry finally asks, and Louis’s fingers go tight on Liam’s upper arm again, but he nods. Liam presses his lips against Louis’s temple, tongue darting to lick at the salty sweat beading there, one hand going down to fondle Louis’s balls. His cock is only chubbed up, but his sharp intake of breath and the involuntary hitch of his hips shows it won’t be long until he gets properly hard again.

“You look beautiful, Lou,” he whispers against Louis’s cheek, because he does, he looks fucking perfect, kneeling up on Liam’s bed with Harry’s fingers sliding in and out of him, wanton and shameless.

“Yeah,” Louis pants, his lips curling up, “I’ve heard fingers in the butt is the new rage in Paris…”

Harry snorts, but presses a kiss to Louis’s shoulder, then brushes his lips up his neck to his ear. “You are, though. Beautiful.”

“Oh well, if it’s coming from… you… must be true then.”

“You’re such a dick,” Liam says affectionately, wrapping his fingers around Louis’s actual dick, which hardens all the way.

“Fuck me,” Louis snarls, a rebuff and an invitation rolled into one.

“Yeah?” Liam kisses Louis just in time to swallow the moan that’s torn off his throat as Harry pushes a third finger in.

The wet noise they make as they slide in and out is nothing short of obscene - Harry’s always generous in his use of lube, which Liam is grateful for. The last thing he wants is for Louis to limp on stage for their last concert. They probably shouldn't do this at all, just to be sure, but Louis's climbing in Liam's lap, presumably free of Harry's fingers, and if Liam was any good at resisting Louis he wouldn't be here in the first place.

“You wanna do it like this?” he asks, pushing Louis's sweaty hair from his forehead. It doesn't seem to be ideal for a first time, especially when Louis’s legs have already been taxed upon.

“Don't care,” Louis says, pressing open mouthed kisses to Liam's jaw. “Want your cock.”

Liam bites on his lip hard, hoping the pain will somehow keep him from coming before he's even been able to get inside Louis; it's just a lot, is all, and the way he can feel Harry's eyes boring into them is not helping any.

He’s considering the logistics when Harry slides a hand in Louis’s hair, gently stroking it. “Trust me, you’ll be better off on your hands and knees.”

Louis huffs, but scrambles off Liam’s lap, placing himself as instructed in the middle of the bed, sweaty hair obscuring his face from view. It’s probably the most arousing thing Liam has ever seen, Louis offering himself to him like this, and it’s also daunting, because Liam has never been someone’s first anything and what if he screws this up royally?

“Liam, either you put your dick up my arse right now or I’m asking Harry to do it,” Louis says through gritted teeth, and the smirk tugging at Harry’s lips makes Liam spring to action, kneeling behind Louis, bracketing his calves with his own and laying shaking hands on Louis’s hips.

“You’re gonna need this,” Harry says directly into his ear, pressing the foil wrapper of a condom against Liam’s chest. But before Liam can reach up for it, Harry takes it away, ripping it open with his teeth and taking the condom out. “Mind if I help?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Liam’s cheek, and Liam is about to answer (or possibly just moan) when Louis snarls.

“If you make him come before he’s fucked me, Styles, I’ll bite yours off.”

Harry laughs against Liam’s cheek, then leans back, reaching down to unroll the condom over Liam’s cock, which gives a happy twitch at finally being acknowledged again. It’s hard not to fuck Harry’s fist as he coats him with another generous dose of lube, but Liam manages to hold off, staring at the sweat beads rolling from the dip of Louis’s back to the flat between his shoulder blades. Louis’s gripping the bedsheets in each fist, and Liam wishes he could see his face, could make sure he’s alright. He moves a hand to Louis’s arse cheek, gently kneading it before pressing his thumb against Louis’s arsehole. Thanks to Harry’s prepping, it slides in without a hitch, and Liam has a strange second where the reality of the situation settles in, of himself kneeling on a hotel bed, naked, with his two bandmates, his thumb knuckle deep into one’s arsehole while the other strokes his cock. It’s something not even the sleaziest tabloid would dare publish, and yet it’s truer than any of the tamer stories they’ve run about the band.

Then Louis moves back against him, taking more of Liam’s thumb in, and every thought that isn’t to do with fucking Louis blind vanishes from Liam’s mind. Taking his thumb away, he presses the head of his cock to Louis’s hole, but hesitates; he’s not one to brag, but his cock is undoubtedly much bigger than his thumb, bigger even than three of Harry’s fingers pressed together. Harry hadn’t let him worry for any length of time when they’d done it, enthusiastically fucking himself on Liam’s cock while Liam had lain there, staring up at him in a fucked out daze, but Louis has never done such a thing, and Liam-

“He’s not gonna break, Liam,” Harry suddenly says, and Liam had almost forgotten that he was kneeling next to him, hadn’t even noticed Harry’s wide palm pressed against his lower back, gently urging him forward.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t protest either, and Liam pushes forward, trying not to grip Louis’s hips too tightly, desperately trying not to go too fast. Watching the head of his cock disappearing into Louis’s arse is… Liam can’t think of a word good enough, but it _is_ , and the strangled moan Louis gives out makes Liam’s fingers clench despite himself, makes him slide further without meaning to.

“Fuck!” Louis gasps, slamming one fist on the mattress, and Harry moves to the head of the bed, sitting next to Louis with one leg curled under him, gently stroking Louis’s hair off his forehead.

“You’re doing great, Lou,” he says, voice soft, all trace of his earlier teasing gone.

Liam inches further in, and Louis’s hand snaps to Harry’s leg, sliding down to his ankle and gripping it hard enough for Louis’s knuckles to turn white. Harry either doesn’t feel the pain or doesn’t mind, for he doesn’t protest, trailing his fingertips down from Louis’s hair to his cheek.

It feels like hours before Liam’s fully in, staring down at Louis’s arse with dazed eyes, his entire body focused on his cock and the relentless pressure around it. _You’re fucking Louis_ keeps going round and round in his head, as if he still can’t believe it, can’t believe the evidence of his own eyes. “I’m in,” he says, because he thinks Louis needs to know, and the way Louis’s shoulders sag proves him right.

“Never realized you were this huge,” Louis says, and Liam can’t help but preen a little, even though he guesses _anything_ feels huge when you stick it up there.

Not moving is taking every shred of willpower he has, but he waits for Louis to give him the go in one way or another, keeping himself as still as possible, silently assuring his cock that things are going to get even better very soon.

Louis stays still for a long time, breathing through the discomfort, and just as Liam is about to ask him if he’s okay, he moves, pushing ever-so-slightly back against Liam before moving forward in the minutest of motions. Liam takes it as his cue and slowly pulls back, then equally slowly pushes back in; Louis’s shoulders are tensing up again but the noises he makes are clearly from pleasure now, not pain, and Liam sets up a rhythm, way too slow for him but hopefully slow enough for Louis. It feels like torture, in the best of ways.

“You can pick the pace up,” Harry says after a while, still staring down at Louis’s face with an intensity that is making Liam’s skin prickle. He executes himself, going steadily faster, apologizing after one out of control slam has Louis’s head bumping against the headboard even as he moans loud enough to make Liam worried about neighbouring rooms hearing him.

What he doesn’t expect is to see Harry leaning down, pressing his hand to Louis’s jaw to tip his face up. There’s no trace of hesitation when they kiss this time, Harry’s face tense with what looks like anger but, judging from the beads of precome pearling on the tip of Harry’s cock, Liam is pretty sure is raw want.

Louis wraps one arm around Harry’s neck, then the other, hanging off him as Liam continues thrusting into him, his rhythm growing erratic - the view is too much to take, surely they can’t expect him to exert self-control when Harry’s sucking on Louis’s tongue like it was his cock, drinking in every one of Louis’s moans.

Harry straightens up, pulling Louis with him until they’re both kneeling, Louis’s back pressed to Liam’s chest, and the new angle has Liam gasping, trying to slam in harder even as he’s got to support Louis’s weight. Harry’s leaning in, pressing Louis back against Liam, and their kiss is even dirtier when seen from up close. Liam presses his lips to the corner of Harry’s, wanting in somehow, and suddenly Harry’s kissing him, Louis managing to join in with quick teases of his tongue, and Liam can’t hold off any longer. He comes with what sounds embarrassingly like a sob, dimly registering Louis’s body as it shakes against his. When he slumps down, resting his chin on Louis’s shoulder, it’s to see Harry’s hand working on Louis’s cock, wrenching the last of his orgasm out of him, and the sight of Louis’s come on Harry’s wrist is not something Liam had given any thought to, but it’s something he knows he’s not about to forget.

They stay still for a while, all three kneeling on the bed, Liam and Harry with Louis between them, his head tipped back on Liam’s shoulder, his breathing slowing down. Harry wraps an arm around both of them, keeping them close, leaning his forehead against Liam’s, eyes closed and mouth open, his lips still red and glistening from their three-way kiss. Liam’s thighs are trembling with the effort of kneeling up and his cock is slowly going soft in Louis’s arse, but he doesn’t want the moment to end, almost wishes someone was there to take a picture, just in case it never happens again.

Louis whimpers when Liam finally slips out, but doesn't otherwise move as Liam struggles to take the condom off and knot it up, dropping it to the floor and hoping nobody will step on it.

Louis grabs his hand then, links their fingers together, his palm against the back of Liam's hand, before reaching down for Harry's cock. Liam had forgotten about that, selfishly secure in his own post-coital glow, but he makes up for it with enthusiastic strokes, Louis's hand over his strengthening his grip.

Harry moans low in his throat, burrowing his face against Liam's neck and biting, and Liam really hopes he doesn't leave a mark - Lou will kill them all if they spring love bites on her for the very last show. Louis doesn't seem to have such qualms, leaning forward to press his mouth against Harry's bicep, closing his teeth around the ship as if trying to bite it off, which considering the trouble that tattoo has brought them both might just be the truth, Liam thinks.

Whatever Louis's intention is, the gesture makes Harry tense up, gasping against Liam's neck as he comes. Most of it ends up on Louis's stomach, the final spurts weakly dribbling down over Liam's and Louis’s interwoven fingers as they slow their stroking down to a halt. They're positively filthy, all covered in each other's come, but it's hard to care when Liam's never felt so loved or so wanted before in his life. His legs finally give out and he sends them all toppling to the side, Louis squirming around so he's facing him. Louis’s eyelids are drooping but his gaze is crystal clear when he looks at Liam, sneaking one arm around his waist.

“Good?” Liam asks, succinctly, because forming actual sentences feels like a challenge right now.

Louis smirks and presses a soft kiss to Liam's lips. “Fucking amazing, yeah.”

“Good.” Liam kisses him back, and gets lost in it for a while, leaning over Louis as he deepens the kiss, still not satiated.

When they break apart, Harry’s lying on his side, watching them, absentmindedly trailing his fingertips up and down Louis’s arm. His long locks are matted with sweat, and if anything it makes him even more sinfully handsome. He leans over Louis, resting his hand on Liam’s upper arm for support, and carefully closes his teeth around Liam’s bottom lip, gently but surely biting it before slipping his tongue past Liam’s parted lips. Kissing with Louis lying between them isn’t the easiest and Harry leans back before long, a lazy smile on his lips, before flopping down on his back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Well this was nice,” he says to the ceiling, before stretching like a cat.

“Say that again.” Louis yawns loudly. “Quiet now,” he orders, but Liam has got other plans.

Louis grunts when Liam gets up, waving his hand at thin air trying to grab him, but they'll regret not cleaning up when they wake up and after everything they've just given him, this feels like the least Liam can do.

He cleans himself up quickly in the bathroom, scanning his neck and shoulders anxiously for any bruises (he finds none, which shows remarkable restraint on Louis’s part, although the deep purple welt on his side which he doesn’t remember anyone sucking there means he’d better not change t-shirts on stage), and takes two soggy hand linens back to the room, handing one to Harry and the other to Louis, who steadfastly ignores it, sprawled on the bed like a sea star, fingers scratching at the dried come on his belly.

“You’re such a slob”, Harry says. Louis’s only answer is to flip him the finger.

Liam rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to gently wipe at Louis’s stomach and crotch, feeling his heart swell at Louis’s small content smile, because after all these years making Louis happy in any way at all still leaves Liam wishing he had a tail he could wag.

Once Louis’s as clean as he’ll get without a shower, and once the condom has been retrieved and properly disposed of, Liam gets back into bed, Harry and Louis rearranging themselves around him. Louis obstinately refuses to let Harry be the little spoon, wrapping himself around Liam’s front like a clam to a rock, so Harry settles against Liam’s back, spooning him and throwing an arm over him, his hand coming to rest on Louis’s hip.

Things get quiet, and Liam finally gets a chance to take in what just happened, even though none of it seems real. He should have lost them both, but he somehow gained something even more amazing than anything he’d ever let himself dream of.

Of course, a little voice whispers at the back of his head, this might just be a fluke. There is still time for jealousies to flare up, for their friendship to crash down and the band to implode inches away from the finish line.

It’s hard to worry about it now, though, not with Louis softly breathing against his neck, not with Harry laying feather light kisses on his shoulder.

“How long till soundcheck?” Louis mumbles, licking at a stray bead of sweat right under Liam’s jaw.

Liam feels Harry twisting behind him, probably reaching for the nearest cellphone. “Two hours,” Harry says after a minute, resettling behind Liam.

“Good. Time for a nap then.”

Louis burrows even closer to Liam, slipping one leg between his, and Harry does the same from behind, pressing his forehead between Liam’s shoulder blades, arm tightening around them both. They’ll probably wake up too cold, naked as they are in the chill air-conditioned room, and if anyone comes in looking for them they’re in for the shock of their lives, but it all seems rather inconsequential right then, and Liam lets his eyes slip shut, his mind at peace.

  
  



End file.
